


110 - A Date in Your Bedroom

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “a fic where Van and the reader decide to stay in for a date, & Van is in the readers room for the first time, which is lit with fairy lights & is full of vinyls, so they are listening to vinyl’s on her record player (The Kooks & Oasis), drinking beer & wine & talking about music & Van going on tour & lots of fluff??”





	110 - A Date in Your Bedroom

"And that's it," you said, finishing the grand tour of the old house you shared with two other people. Van had met them before, and as you walked through the living room they both greeted him happily. They liked him, and he liked them. You stood in the kitchen and offered Van a drink. You drank the same dry white wine, so you grabbed a bottle and glasses, and motioned for him to follow you.

In your bedroom, you kicked the door closed behind you. Van sat on the edge of your bed while you poured the wine. As he looked around you tried to imagine how he saw the room. What was your little safe space like to an outsider? You rented, so there wasn't anything you could do about the light grey of the walls. You threaded sparkly fairy lights from the roof, and they crisscrossed along the walls like a clothes line. From them you pegged your favourite vinyl covers, photographs, and random show tickets and movie stubs. There were glow in the dark stars stuck to the roof. They were there from the previous occupants, but you loved them. You continued the galaxy theme by cutting out a few star shapes from black glitter paper and sticking them to your free standing mirror and hanging them from the fairy light lines. That was a craft project completed in the very early hours of the morning when you couldn't sleep.

Van's black clothes matched the materials of the room. Your curtains were black too; you wanted to block as much sunlight out as possible while you slept in. The bedspread was a deep forest green, and it beautifully matched the dark wood of the bed and furniture. Van looked like he belonged on your bed. You handed him a glass, and he took a sip.

"I like your room," he said. You were thankful it was clean. You hadn't planned on him coming over. There was a date planned, but you had a rough day at work, and when Van picked you up he noticed. "We can stay in, if you want?" he had said, and you replied with yes quickly. You picked up Chinese take away and directed him to your house for the first time.

"Me too," you replied. He stood and walked to the bookshelf. His head tilted to the side as he read the spines of the books. There was a lot of fiction, but a few about art history too. He noticed the record player then, sitting on your dresser.

"Where’s your collection at?" You pulled out some boxes from under your bed. Van dropped to his knees and put his glass next to him. It took him only a second to locate (What's the Story) Morning Glory? You watched him clumsily put the vinyl on the turntable. "Champagne Supernova," he said. You nodded with a smile. He moved back to the bed and sat, patting the mattress next to him. You lied back on the bed when you sat as directed. He fell back next to you. 

"What’s your room like?"

"Nothing like this. I'm hardly there, 'cause of touring and everythin'. It's really just a bed and a cupboard with clothes in it. All my records and stuff is out in the lounge with Larry's. We share everything like that," he said, and you smiled at the mention of Larry. It didn't matter what the topic of conversation was, somehow Larry would pop up. It was a beautiful, loving thing.

"Do you miss being home when you're away?"

"Not really. I miss my mum and dad; don't get to see them much. And my dog. Don't get homesick, though," he said.

"What about when you're home? Do you miss the road?"

"Yes. Always say that the tour bus feels more like home than home does, you know? Being on stage is easier than sleeping for me, so touring is… yeah, home."

Once Van started talking about his band, it was hard to get him to stop. You wouldn't have stopped him at all if you hadn't remembered the food. You reheated the Chinese and brought it to Van in your room. You sat facing each other on the floorboards of your bedroom and ate. Van bet he could fit a whole large spring roll in his mouth. You said you believed he could - no need to bet. He said, "Nah, I bet," again and again, then shoved the food down his throat. You laughed as you watched him try to make it easier to chew by mixing it with wine. When he finally swallowed it he said, "Not as fun as I thought it'd be."

"That's what she said," you replied. You only ever made the joke if the implication wasn't sexist. Van laughed.

"So, what's your plan then? You hate your job, right?" he asked.

"Some of it, I guess. It's just… I don't fit in proper there, you know? Feel like a bit of an outsider. I need to find somewhere where I can just be me,"

"Start a band,"

"No musical talent. I'm thinking of going back to uni, actually. If I'm going to float through life aimlessly, I may as well be highly educated," you said, shrugging and moving some rice around on your plate.

"Do you like studying?"

"I'm good at it, and I can be myself there. I'll be older than the other people in my class, but I think that will be alright. I don't know. Just kind of lost?"

"If you ever want to drop out of life and just come on tour with us, you can. You can be a guitar tech like Larry," Van said, using air quotation marks for 'guitar tech.' You laughed and nodded.

"What will people think about that?"

"That I'm dead lucky to have my best mate and a pretty girl followin' me around the world," he grinned and you seriously considered doing it.

When the plates were cleared, more wine was poured, and the record was changed, you laid back on your bed. Van was stomach-down, arms crossed with his head on them. He looked over at you. You were on your side, looking back.

"What happens when you want a family? Can't take babies on tour," you asked.

"Yeah. I know. Sometimes I think 'bout it, but I think it will probably work out. Cross that bridge when I come to it, you know what I mean? Right now we're just focused on making the band as big as it can be. Sell out stadiums. Visit every country in the world. Go to space," he replied and leant up to flick one of the black glittery stars.

"What happens if this is as big as the band gets? Do you have a backup plan?"

Van laughed, hard. "Got no faith in me, Y/N?" You grinned. "No, people ask us that all the time. I think Bob would go do photography. John… probably join another band. Not sure what Benj would do. Can imagine him working in a game store, you know? With all the geeky stuff. Or maybe he'd go to uni too. He's dead smart. Me and Larry… we'd be fucked. No backup plan at all. Not worried though. The band is gonna make it."

Van's unyielding faith in himself and his band made you like him more. It made you feel empowered to do what you wanted. Whatever you want to be, be the best at it, and never give up on that dream. That was Van’s guiding principle, and you wanted to adopt it to be yours too.

He reached out and wiped across your lips with a thumb, then put the thumb in his mouth. "Sweet and sour sauce," he explained. You smiled and felt yourself blush. The fairy lights lit the room in a soft glow that was always flattering. They seemed to work even more magic for Van, though. His cheekbones were defined, and sharp. His eyelashes cast shadows down his cheeks that joined the dots of his freckles. In the clear blue of his eyes, you could see yourself reflected. 

"Do you know what highlighter is?" you asked, surprised when your voice came out as a whisper. "Like, the makeup, not the pen," you clarified before he said something painfully stupid and cute. He shook his head. You got up and rummaged through a drawer, quickly returning with your most expensive pot of shimmery powder. "Stay still," you ordered and started to blend it into his skin. He smirked as you did it.

"I like how that feels," he said.

"I'll do your whole face one time then,"

"Will probably be an improvement," he joked.

"Can't improve perfection, Van," you replied, and he smiled wide. You finished and moved away from him. He sat up a little and twisted his head. He shimmered in the lights, and not a single person on earth had ever worn highlighter better. "Fuck."

"Yeah?" he laughed. You nodded. You both laid back down on your sides facing each other. The space between you was small but felt too big. Van reached out for your hand and he held it between you. The atmosphere was thick and crackled with electricity and potential. "I know we've only been hanging out for a little bit, but… I like you so, so much. Fallin' in love, type of thing, you know?" You didn't know what to say back because your sentiments were the exact same. Your lips parted though, prepared for speech. Instead, your body reacted for you and you leant in and kissed him. Van smiled at first, then kissed back. The first time. Trust Van McCann to admit love before the first kiss.

It was almost daybreak by the time you crawled under the deep green covers of your bed together. You'd listened to records all through the night, getting warmer and warmer with wine and love. You danced the waltz across the floorboards and cut out more glittery stars together when Van wanted to add to your galaxy. He created his own solar system that hung above your bed. As you lied between the sheets you watched the paper slowly twist and turn. Van curled around you and his breath on your neck was the last thing you sensed before falling asleep.


End file.
